Poppy glared at him, but eventually sighed and turned to face the ceiling. "It was a little bit of both, I guess," she said reluctantly. "He wanted to get married. I didn't."
Poppy raised an eyebrow at his pressing. "...Sometimes," she said. "When we were first together, he wrote songs about me. After we broke up though, we didn't talk to each other at all. That phone call was the first contact that we've had in months."
"Well that sounds fun. He does seem like a pushover, though." Francis stretched him arms, rolling his sleeves up.
Poppy paused, and then turned onto her side, propping her head up with a curious expression. "Pushover? How so?"
"Artsy, song writer, he's got an obvious soft spot, but I only assume it's because you two were together. It's only a hypothesis."
She grinned at him. Some color seemed to be returning to her face, and her eyes seemed brighter. "One can be artistic and still be strong," she pointed out. "He's not a pathetic guy."
She raised her eyebrows, a slight smile playing on the edge of her lips. "Oh? What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, his playful attitude contagious.
He mimicked a girly voice, holding his hands together and batting his eyes. "Oh, he's sooo artistic and strong! Totally not pathetic!"
"I don't sound like that!" Poppy exclaimed, nudging him indignantly. "Sounds like you're just jealous."
"Think what you want," Poppy said, shrugging. She rested her arm on the curve of her hip, looking at her nails with mock nonchalance. "I have come to the conclusion that you..." She pointed to his chest. "...have a huge crush on me. No use trying to deny it. I've discovered your secret."
"Oh, yes. It's true that I have a crush on you," he said, sarcastically, the words unfamiliar and distasteful in his mouth. "But I suppose that makes it equal, because I suspect you're only saying that so you can confess your own feelings with being awkward."
"I swear, no confession of attraction towards you shall come from my lips until the day I die," she said, raising her left hand. "Thanks for admitting your most ardent feelings, though. It's good to know that I have that effect on you."
"Right, right. I must not sing enough songs for you. I'll remember that oath, because one day you will be taking it back." He brushed back his hair smoothly.
She chuckled, her laughter light, easy, and relaxed. She returned to her position on her back but kept her head tilted in his direction. "You can dream, I suppose. I'm not one to crush someone's highest ambitions, no matter how unachievable they may be."
"Hm. Right," Poppy said agreeably, her tired eyes gazing up at the ceiling. She yawned slightly as the afternoon light slid into the tent, her sleepless nights suddenly catching up to her. She noticed Francis' expression and turned to look at him to keep her mind awake. "What are you thinking about?" she asked him.
